It's Never Too Late to Collect

The conference room fell deathly silent.

The other four interns stood frozen in place, clutching their employment contracts. Unsure of what to do, they instinctively turned to look at Monica Kovane.

My assistant, Ingrid Nelson, was caught off guard. Standing beside me, she shot me an anxious look. "Ms. Campbell…"

I pretended not to notice her and calmly studied the young Monica standing before me. She looked just like her mother—beautiful, intelligent, and effortlessly superior.

Out of everyone in the room, Monica was the only one who didn't panic.

She paused for the briefest moment before regaining her composure. Calmly, she opened the folder she had brought with her and spread its contents neatly across the table.

"Ms. Campbell, I've interned with your company for three months. During that time, I've worked on four projects, two of which I completed on my own. My client renewal rate is 100%."

She spoke eloquently, neither arrogant nor timid. "I've also received top marks in quarterly evaluation, and my performance ranks first among all the interns in my cohort."

When she was finished, she paused and met my eyes. "My results are the best out of everyone here. If you're rejecting me, at least give me a reason."

Her chin was held slightly high. Not a trace of grievance could be found in her eyes. Instead, there was a restrained composure of someone who felt unfairly treated.

That confidence and pride could only be nurtured by a childhood filled with love, security, and privileges.

I leaned back in my chair and watched Monica for a long moment. "I don't have one."

Her expression stiffened.

"This is my company," I continued. "I'm terminating you. Simple as that."

For the first time, a crack appeared in Monica's composure. Her face dropped slightly, but a sneer quickly took over. "Ms. Campbell, this is workplace bullying."

She closed her folder with a snap, her voice icy. "If I make this public, I'm afraid it won't do your company's reputation any favors."

I smiled. "There's no bullying."

I held her gaze without blinking, my face unreadable. "If you think this is bullying, maybe the problem lies with you. After all, true talents never assume they're being singled out. Only those with a guilty conscience do."

The moment those words left my mouth, Monica's face changed completely. At last, I had managed to provoke her.

Just then, Ingrid stepped closer and whispered in my ear, "Ms. Campbell, perhaps you should reconsider. Ms. Kovane's performance has been outstanding. The board also looked into her background. Her father is—"

"Graham Kovane."

I cut her off with a raised hand before turning back to Monica. "That's your father, right?"

Monica froze for a moment, then lifted her chin with overflowing pride. "So, you've heard of my father. Since you know who he is, you should also know that if I stay, there may very well be opportunities for future partnerships between the two companies."

She was so unrattled and utterly certain of herself when she suggested that to me.

After all, 20 years had passed. Kovane Group might no longer be the powerhouse it once was, but as a long-established corporation, it still stood far above what most companies could ever hope to reach.

"That won't be necessary."

Monica stiffened.

"I don't need Kovane Group as a partner," I said as I slid the termination letter across the desk toward her.